Grace to Soul
by sweet-and-simple
Summary: Castiel and Dean make love.  Just not in the way you think.  Castiel/Dean
1. Devotion

Now, it's not really anyone's business, not even _yours_, so don't go around talking.

But Dean's insanely in love with his angel, who _happens_ to be willing to risk his angelic state and the world alike for him. So maybe the angel loves him too. Okay, it's not _maybe_, it's definitely.

Dean knows it. Cas knows it. Sam… Sam calls Dean a man-whore behind his back, 'cause it's true.

Dean likes to have his one-night stands and Cas doesn't get jealous once. He doesn't come barging in and demand that Dean stop with his 'iniquitous acts'. He likes to make the women orgasm in the back of his Impala, across any convenient horizontal surface (sometimes vertical), maybe even in the back of bars. The where doesn't matter, the when he prefers to be regularly, and the why is because he has a healthy libido and he's hot shit. So sue him.

He doesn't give a fuck.

But Dean and Cas… they're kind of a _thing_. Y'know, kind of an eternal bond going on between them.

And you know what? Dean has never cheated on Cas. Which might explain why Cas never blows his top.

You see… as Cas had once said, they share a _profound_ bond. It's deeper than physical, it's Grace-to-Soul deep.

Besides, Cas may be very much in love with Dean, may want him very much, but Jimmy's body is still wired as _heterosexual_. Jimmy's brain is still in the body and it sends out signals that react around certain types of women, though Cas has never acted on any impulse brought about by these signals.

You think it was an accident when Cas told Chastity that her dad ran away because of his job at the post office? No, he knew that she would react negatively, even if he hadn't completely understood _why_. He isn't an angel for show. He was just inexperienced.

Now he isn't. And he knows he loves Dean and he knows that Dean loves him. Because Cas can't get physical and Dean still holds onto his straightness with a fighter's grip, they have gotten… inventive.

They are lying side by side in Dean's hotel bed, facing each other with forehead pressed together, lips meeting, meshing, parting on soft gasps and moans…

They are fully dressed, Cas's hands on Dean's temples and Dean's hands squeezing the angel's hips. The hunter sucks his bottom lip into his mouth after a brief separation, eyes shut, and then he shivers, body arching, and he whines something incoherent.

Cas, on the contrary, is staring with wide blue eyes at Dean, speculating his every move, every twitch and noise, and when Dean bites his lip, he leans back in and assists his lover in tenderizing the pink flesh.

The action is, mostly, centered within Dean, though. In his soul, actually. Cas is there, Grace shining almost blindingly, and he is spinning in and out of the hunter's essence, spreading and shrinking, twirling and straightening, curling and relaxing, all inside of Dean's soul. Dean _loves_ it, is reacting as strongly to it as a human possibly can.

He knows that he's practically being made love to – not fucked, not screwed, not just having sex with – by Cas. He's there, inside of him, thrusting slowly and gently in and out of him, and his voice is there, hushing his soul's pained cries and healing his insecurities, tears, wounds, and shame.

Dean gives back his own, squeezing and shivering and begging, glowing brighter and brighter with the more attention he gets. His soul has its own voice and it's pleading with Cas to never leave, to always love him like this, to never stop loving him.

Dean's soul doesn't have Dean's protective layer of douche-ness. His soul can't lie, not to Cas, and all of his weaknesses come out to be reassured. Cas, he never judges. His Grace sweeps through and washes away the stains and shadows.

He's on the edge, about to jizz his brain. Or his soul. Maybe he'll jizz his pants too, he just _doesn't know_. He has no idea where the pleasure will explode next, whether or not he'll lose his intelligence, his insanity, or his very _being_.

And then Cas says it, directly into the core of his soul, and his Grace is wrapped so tightly around him that he can not doubt the words for a nanosecond. _'I love you, Dean Winchester. Through Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, and the Apocalypse, I will always love you most.' _

He cries out, both within and outwardly. He throws his head back and everything in him clenches, the front of his jeans turning wet and sticky. A fine sheen of sweat covers his skin and his brain is a confused mesh of thoughts, things going round and round in his mind that he doesn't even care to make sense of.

His very essence is still within the cradle of Cas's Grace and he contents with letting himself float there, safe and secure, very warm.

Limp in the aftermath, he lets Cas continue his soft exploration, his loving tendrils of Grace that are still probing everything Dean is.

The angel lets out a choked groan when he reaches his own climax. Though he doesn't jizz his pants, Dean takes pride in knowing that he blew his mind and his Grace trembles a bit as it loses its tension.

"That was… that was good," Dean murmurs.

"Just good?" Cas asks and it's obvious by his tone of voice that he's caught on to a few of Dean's habits, such as teasing.

"You blew me away, baby."

Cas grins in that small, subtle way of his. He holds Dean to him, lying on his back now, and the hunter is across his chest. "I felt it. I felt you coming apart and it was glorious."

"'Course it was," he slurs, because he's a little tired by now. No one has an orgasm that freakin' epic and survives the night. "'Felt you too."

"I feel your soul becomes greedier every time I enter you."

Doesn't that sound hot? _"Every time I enter you"_ and Dean shivers as he imagines Cas actually entering him, physically, and he thinks of his ass flesh ripping and the gratifying push and pull of something thick and long inside of him.

But he's never felt that before, so it sounds to him to be a bit scary, something he decides he can live without considering everything he has lived through and everything he hopes to never have to live through.

Cas kisses him one last time and it's sloppy 'cause Dean isn't really paying attention, already half-asleep. "Good night, Dean. I will lead you through the night without dreams."

He sighs and he tries to say it, tries so hard, but his throat closes on him and he swallows thickly. He just has to believe that Cas doesn't need him to say it, that the bits of Grace still inside of him guarantee that his lover can never question him.

The angel smiles that small smile again. "I love you too, Dean."

That's all he needs. He shuts his eyes and he's out like a light bulb.

When he wakes up, Sam is in the opposite bed, sleeping. Dean is alone.

Except for the parts of Cas that are still inside of him, bright and hot.

So, really, never truly alone.


	2. Exhibitionism

Sam was beginning to feel a little awkward. Okay, that was a lie. This was getting _really_ awkward. They only thing he could compare it to would be watching his brother have sex on a street corner in broad daylight.

Except, that wasn't happening at all. They were at diner in some town too small to be found on any Detroit map, about three other people there aside from the cook, and no one was doing anything vaguely sexual or even embarrassing.

He was sitting in one booth and opposite him, Castiel and Dean sat. Dean had the Thursday special in front of him while Sam had gone with the salad and Castiel had forgone food, like always. So nothing weird there.

But there _was_ something weird about it. He just couldn't figure out what! Honestly, something not good was going down on the other side of the table, but Dean and Cas weren't involved like that… right? Right. Sam had seen Dean walk out of the bar two cities back with a blonde bimbo on his arm. No way Dean hadn't tapped that, so unless Dean was two-timing again… which would be _impossible_ because Cas knew _everything_ they _ever_ did and cheating on an angel was just too stupid for even Dean to do… there was no way.

So why was his brother's face flushed and eyes glassy? Why were his hands shaking as he dug into the special? Why was Cas _smirking_?

Sam shuddered and dipped his head low, letting his fringe block them from sight. Oh Hell, he didn't want to know.

Despite it, though, he found himself looking up again anyway.

Castiel was looking at Dean out of the corner of his eye with worshiping _awe_ and Dean met his gaze with something like… something like… Yep, that was need. That was so need. And Sam was horrified and astounded to see a bit of love there too.

He checked under the table just to make sure hands weren't wandering. Nope, Dean's one hand was clenched into his thigh and both of Cas's were demurely in his lap. Nothing going on there.

That should have been comforting, but it only made warning bells goes off. What the _Hell_ were they doing?

He loathed breaking the tense silence – he honestly was. Who wants to be the guy who tells the street corner exhibitionists to get a room? But they're not even having _sex_!

Sam cleared his throat, a little too lowly because he grabbed neither of their attention. He did it a second time, a little louder. Still nothing. Dean and Cas continued to stare at each other like _fuck-me-NOW_, and it was only getting more awkward for the younger Winchester.

He slapped his hand down on the counter. "Guys! Hello?"

Two things happened at once.

He caught Castiel's attention, who turned patiently to him. And Dean's face said an intimate "hello" to his Lunch. He groaned pitifully and Sam flushed red just at the sound.

The waitress was giving them a weird look, like she knew better than Sam what was going on. She gave a pointed look to the table. Damn it, though, Sam had already checked down there!

"Yes, Sam?" Cas asked.

Was it just him or was the angel a little more relaxed than he had been just a little while ago?

"… Forget it." He put down a few bills, salad half-finished. "I'll just meet you guys back up at the hotel."

Dean moaned again in understanding. "Later, Sammy…" He saluted a clumsy hand and a salt shaker went flying when it fell limply onto the table.

Sam was out of there before he even realized he was in the car.

There was nothing going on between Dean and Cas… right? Right. Dean was a man-whore, as much as Sammy loved him. Castiel was most likely all about loyalty and devotion, he wouldn't stand for Dean's one-night stands… Right? Right.

But then… _what the Hell had that been_?

He stared dumbly at the steering wheel for what felt like hours.

Then again… did he really want to know? No. No? Right.

Damn straight.

Then he realized he could see Dean and Cas from where the car was situated right in front of the diner windows. He put the car in gear and sped the fuck out of there. He didn't need to know.

_Author's Note: I have no clue… but it was fun to write._


End file.
